


Panacea, Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Dark Magic

by QueenoftheDarned



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Amaya hates doors, Banter, Dark Magic, Drama, Gen, Pre-Canon, Race Against Time, Snark, Young Callum and Ezran, Young Claudia, no-nonsense Opeli, soren needs a hug, viren gets his geek on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21969097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheDarned/pseuds/QueenoftheDarned
Summary: One of these days, King Harrow is going to stop relying on Viren's dark magic to solve his problems.Today is not that day.When a mysterious sickness ravages the troops at the Xadian border, Viren is sure he can cure it... but at what cost?Tempers fray and differences must be put aside, as the hunt for a cure turns into a race against time, spanning two Kingdoms and pushing Viren to his limits.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 47





	1. A Decision

The screams of the dying echoed through the fortress at the Breach. Commander Gren flinched every time a new voice rang out, as he hurried along in General Amaya’s wake. The General strode through the empty corridors, one hand on the hilt of her blade, as if the fortress was under attack. 

They _were_ under attack, in a sense; days ago, the first soldiers had dropped for seemingly no reason while out on patrol. They clutched themselves and howled with pain, though they had no injuries that anyone could see. Slowly the infirmary filled up, and cots were dragged out of rooms to accommodate the sick. Then the field healers had fallen as well, and now Amaya and Gren were two of the rapidly dwindling number of healthy bodies struggling to keep the fortress functioning.

When it came to corporeal foes, General Amaya was in a league of her own; none could stand against her. Against this type of threat? Gren suspected that, on the inside, she was as scared as he was. 

They paused at the wall, where cascades of molten rock heated the air to a hazy shimmer, making it difficult to breathe and even harder to see. At least the screams were muffled by the lava falls.

 _General_ , Gren signed. Amaya didn’t seem to notice - there were dark circles under her eyes as she stared out through the haze towards the Xadian side of the breach. According to the messengers, the fortress there was faring no better.  
 _Amaya?_ he tried again, reaching out and gently touching her arm when she didn’t respond. She started, then shook her head and signed;

_Sorry, I was thinking._

_You need to get some rest,_ Gren told her. Amaya flapped her hand at him as if to dismiss the idea. _I mean it_ , he insisted. _You’ve been awake for nearly two days straight._

 _Someone needs to stand guard. The soldiers can’t defend themselves like this._ Amaya suppressed a yawn. _I can sleep when I’m dead._

 _I hope help arrives from Katolis soon._ Gren chewed the inside of his cheek. _I don’t know how much longer we can go on like this.  
  
_ Amaya’s expression softened. _Go get some rest_ , _Commander._ _That’s an order._

* * *

King Harrow’s brow furrowed as he drummed his fingers on his knee. The atmosphere in the council chamber was thick and heavy, just like the snow that carpeted the courtyard outside. The only sound was the crackling of the fire in the grate.

The King and his most trusted advisors were seated around a large circular table. No one had spoken in some time, given the look of concentration on the King’s face. In the end, Opeli cleared her throat politely.

“Your Highness, if you need more time to consider, we can adjourn for now,” she said. “But we can’t hesitate much longer. The situation at the border is getting desperate.”

“No, I know.” Harrow sighed and looked up, his restless fingers falling still. “We’ll withdraw the troops from the border. Only the afflicted,” he added as a ripple went through the room. “And enough healthy soldiers to accompany them back.”

“This will leave the Xadian border practically undefended!” Saleer leaned forward in his seat, gripping the arms tightly.

“I understand, but the soldiers can’t defend it effectively as it is, with so many of them weakened. At least if we bring them back to Katolis we can study this sickness and perhaps develop a cure.” 

“We don’t even know what it is! We could infect hundreds, maybe thousands more people by bringing them here!” Opeli fixed Saleer with a steely glare, and he fell quiet.

“Your Highness, with your permission, I can have the royal apothecary quarantine a wing of the castle. That way we can keep the disease contained while we treat the sick.” She spoke evenly, but two spots of colour in her cheeks betrayed her anger. There was no question of leaving the soldiers out there to suffer. Harrow nodded gravely.

“I trust your judgement, Opeli. Do whatever you have to do, if it will help keep everyone safe.” He rose to his feet, followed quickly by the council. “Have a contingent of soldiers set out at first light to help bolster the border garrison.” The room filled with murmurs of assent, then, realising they had been dismissed, the council began to file out of the chamber, eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere behind. Opeli and the King watched them go, both steeling themselves for the exhausting task they had ahead of them.

“How likely do you think it is that the apothecary will come up with a cure?” said Harrow. “Be honest.”

“Truthfully?” Opeli chewed her lip. “I don’t know. The messengers said it was like they were burning up from the inside. There’s no pattern to who falls ill. None of the field healers could do anything to stop it. But we have to try, don’t we?” Harrow nodded.

“Of course. Take whatever resources you need. If we can save even one soldier…” he fell quiet again, thinking of his sister-in-law. Amaya’s name had not been on the list of the sick, but if anyone could fall victim to the sickness…

Opeli reached for the door, and then leapt aside with a cry of alarm as it burst inwards.

“Viren!” she said accusingly, as the High Mage strode across the room, a stack of books in his arms. He dumped them onto the table with a resounding thud and dusted off his hands. “Where were you? You missed the council.”

“I was researching,” said Viren shortly. “Xadian diseases, toxins, poisonous plants and creatures, the effects of ambient magic-” he shuffled the books across the table, opening them to the relevant passages. Opeli folded her arms, unimpressed. 

“You should have been here.” Viren didn’t bother responding; instead, he turned to Harrow.

“King Harrow, if I may, I’d like to show you something.” 

Not to be ignored, Opeli took a furious step toward him. “You think you can just waltz in here, hours late, and-”

“It’s alright, Opeli,” said Harrow evenly. He held out a placating hand. “I’m sure Viren had a very good reason to miss the council.” _Besides, the two of them would have ended up bickering,_ he thought to himself.

“I did. If I’m correct, the disease is magical in nature. If I can figure out the origin of this phenomenon, it will be a relatively simple task to counteract it.” Opeli drew back sharply.

“You want to use dark magic on our people?” This time, the disgust in her voice made Viren look up. 

“To save their _lives_ ,” he said, frustration creeping into his tone. “If you want to waste time covering them with leeches or distilling herbs-”

“-And what’s wrong with herbs?” 

“Oh, nothing.” Viren scoffed. “If you want to make them a nice soup.”

“And you wonder why she doesn’t like you,” Harrow muttered as Opeli stormed from the room. Viren made a dismissive noise and turned back to his books. 

“In Xadia, magic suffuses the land, much like the way every living creature contains its own life force.” He tapped a passage as if to punctuate his point. “In rare cases this can have a… negative effect on people who spend long periods of time nearby, particularly if they are not accustomed to it.”

“So this may not be a disease after all?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. I need more information to be sure.” Viren drew away from the table and rubbed his chin thoughtfully with the pad of his thumb. Harrow sighed.

“Oh, no.”

“What?”

“You’re scheming again.” Viren even had the audacity to look affronted.

“I’m not _scheming-_ ”

“You are. That’s your scheming face. What are you planning?”

“I was _thinking_ ,” Viren said, with as much dignity as he could muster, “that I know of somewhere that might have the information I need.” Ah, _there_ it was. Harrow could pinpoint where exactly in any given conversation Viren was about to suggest something terrible. He’d had a lot of practice.

“We’re _not_ going back to Xadia.” he told his High Mage flatly.

“Of course not. That would be ridiculous.”

“Good, I’m glad we agree.” Harrow turned on his heel, and Viren leapt to intercept him before he could reach the door.

“There’s a tower somewhere on the borders of Duren and Neolandia said to hold forgotten tomes of magic.”

“Dark magic,” Harrow interrupted, but Viren barely paused. 

“For a short time following their exile, the human kingdoms co-operated to preserve what precious little magical knowledge had escaped from Xadia with them,” he continued smoothly. “They built repositories - great libraries - to make sure that knowledge would survive.” 

“Even if this place is still standing, I don’t think Duren and Neolandia would be happy to let us take their magic books.” 

“That’s why I was about to suggest that we…” Viren searched for the right words. “...discretely borrow them.” Harrow raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re suggesting we steal from neighbouring kingdoms.” Viren opened his mouth to respond. “- _No_ , Viren. We’re not thieves, and we’re not going to sneak around behind our allies’ backs.” 

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t sure it would help us!” the High Mage insisted, looking a little desperate now. “Wouldn’t it be worth it, if it can save lives?” 

“I remember you saying something very similar a few years ago. Do you remember?”

“How could I forget? The Long Winter was hard for-” he checked himself. “-for many people.” Harrow’s expression darkened. 

“And what do you think Sarai would say if she were here?” 

“I…” for once, Viren didn’t have an answer. They both knew exactly what The Queen would have thought of the idea. Harrow gave a hollow, joyless laugh.

“Right.” He made for the door. This time, Viren didn’t stop him. The King paused in the doorway, daylight and crisp winter air spilling into the gloomy chamber.

“I’ll think about it,” he said quietly, before letting the door swing shut behind him. 

* * *

In the cosy, firelit rooms of the Banther Lodge, two young princes were missing their father. Callum was sitting on the plush window seat, staring out at the darkening sky as fresh snow began to pile up outside. Tomorrow they would spend hours jumping in and out of snow drifts, just like they had earlier that day. Reflected in the window, Ezran was play-wrestling with Bait on the floor. Callum was only half-watching, when a dark, fluttering shape shot over the treeline and crash-landed by the front door.

“It’s a messenger crow!” Callum shot to his feet and hurried downstairs as fast as his ten-year-old legs could carry him. On the doorstep was a bedraggled, grumpy-looking crow with a scroll tied to its foot. He huddled the exhausted creature to his chest, shut the door again (with some difficulty, as he had to do it one-handed) and climbed the stairs back to the room he shared with his little brother.

The crow wasted no time in snuggling inside Ezran’s jacket. It stayed there, an oddly-shaped bulge, while Callum took the letter that had come attached to its foot.

He had briefly hoped it would be from Claudia - she had promised to write to him, after all - but when he saw the King’s seal he mentally kicked himself. Of course it was from their father - he wouldn’t have up and left in the middle of the night without sending word. 

“What does it say?” Ezran sat expectantly on the carpet with Bait in his lap. He was learning to read, but Callum still read aloud to him when he had to. Besides, they both enjoyed it. Callum broke the seal, unfurled the paper, and cleared his throat. 

_“Dear Callum and Ezran,”_ he began, in his best reading voice. Ezran’s eyes lit up.  
“ _Boys, I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly last night. Something urgent came up and I had to return to Katolis for a while. I’ll be back as soon as I can, but in the meantime, be good and take care of one another. Enjoy the snow while you can! When I get back, we will build the biggest snowman you’ve ever seen! Love you lots, Dad.”_ _  
_Callum let his head fall back against the window as he thought about this. “Huh. I wonder what’s going on that’s so important.” Ezran shrugged and gave a yawn.

“Something really boring, I bet,” he said. Callum turned back to the letter.

“Wait, there’s more; _P.S. I hid a special treat for you somewhere in the lodge! See if you can find it!”_

“Dad’f not goo’at pficking hidingf pflaces, if he?” Ezran mumbled through a mouth of sticky jelly tart crumbs. Callum’s eyes widened as he stared at his brother over the top of the letter. A big wicker basket sat on the floor, still half underneath the sofa that sat up against one wall. The letter fluttered to the ground as Callum threw himself down beside Ezran.

“Hey, save some for me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay look, I’ve got to be honest. Viren’s my favourite and here’s why: he may be a villain and a tyrant but he’s also a huge nerd and I am HERE. FOR. IT.  
> (My other favourite is Amaya because, well, duh.)
> 
> Anyway, I'm not sure about the timeline of events preceding Season 1 but I’m operating on the assumption that some years pass between Queen Sarai’s death and the moonshadow assassins turning up, giving Harrow time to overcome his grief enough to realise that taking revenge on Avizandum was a bad idea. Ah, the joys of fan fiction!


	2. Preparations

Castle Katolis was in chaos. It had been three days since the garrison from the Breach had trickled in through the city gates, to the horror of the city folk. Harrow had to admit he could have thought that through better.

_ What else were you supposed to do?  _ Amaya said with a shrug, as Opeli dutifully interpreted.  _ Smuggle us in under cover of darkness? We don’t have time to mess around. _

That was true - the fact she was standing there at all was a testament to how dire things were. When the soldiers from Katolis had arrived, she had been on the brink of disobeying direct orders in order to stay at the border. Then she’d seen Gren carried out on a stretcher, moaning and clutching at his chest. 

“She’s right, you know,” said Opeli, once Amaya had left to finally catch up on some rest. “You’re handling this well.”

“I hope I can also handle a panic, if word gets out about the sickness,” Harrow said. “If the neighbouring kingdoms find out…” He looked haggard, but then, everyone did. Turning half of the castle into an infirmary had been a gruelling task. 

“Let me handle that, Your Highness,” Opeli told him. Her expression soured as she caught sight of young Claudia hurrying past, carrying a jar full of butterflies under one arm. “I wonder where Viren’s little monster is off to in such a hurry.”

“Speaking of, where  _ is  _ Viren?”

“Helping in the east wing.” Opeli’s lips twitched slightly as Harrow raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you heard correctly.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sources only know what he’s doing, but still.”

“I may have to go and see this for myself.” Opeli shifted uncomfortably. 

“Before you do, you should know... it’s rather grim. The soldiers aren’t faring well. I’m told the journey was... rough.” Harrow took this in and nodded his understanding.

“Thanks for the warning, but I should know what we’re dealing with.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Before the healers would let him into the eastern wing, Harrow had to put on a loose-fitting grey robe over his clothes, and swap his shoes for flimsy slippers. He would have felt ridiculous if all of the healers weren’t also wearing the same. The robe smelled of pungent herbs - a smell that seemed to cling to everything. Harrow tried to hide his distaste - it was the scent of burn salve and fever medicine, but it didn’t mask the other smell in the air; the smell of sickness, and encroaching death.

Once suitably attired, Harrow stepped into the wing and was greeted with a fresh wave of that sickly smell. Fortunately, the afflicted soldiers had stopped screaming and were lying still as statues - and not a moment too soon, judging by the careworn look of the royal apothecary healers. 

“Lord Viren put them to sleep,” said one of them wearily, looking down at the young soldier he was tending to. The boy couldn’t have been much older than eighteen. His skin was viciously blistered, as if he’d been burned, but otherwise there was no sign of any injury. “Poor lad wouldn’t stop crying for his mum. At least this way he can’t feel the pain. All I can do now is try to keep his fever down.” Powerless to do anything else, Harrow murmured a few words of support before moving on.

He soon found Viren and, to his surprise, Claudia. The quarantined wing certainly wasn’t a place for children, but the girl took in the appalling scenes around her with an air of clinical curiosity. Her borrowed robe swamped her completely.

I was right!” exclaimed Viren, by way of greeting. His excitement bordered on obscene, considering there were unconscious soldiers lying a few feet away. He caught the dirty looks the healers shot him and lowered his voice. “I, ah, confirmed that the afflicted are all infused with strange magic.  _ Xadian _ magic. It seems to be burning away their life force, as if it’s consuming them from the inside out.”    
He looked curiously fresh, considering he was here in the midst of it all. Harrow briefly wondered what the man’s secret was. Then he noticed the empty jar Claudia held and decided he was better off not knowing.

“Then you can fix it?” Viren’s expression fell.

“Not… exactly. I can draw the magic out, but it needs somewhere to go, otherwise it will ‘infect’ whoever is unlucky enough to be nearby. We need a vessel to contain it.”

“Go on…”

Viren leaned down and patted his daughter’s head gently. “Sweetheart, why don’t you go and see if the others need some help?” Claudia glanced between her father and the king. She looked as though she was going to say something, then thought better of it and traipsed away, the hem of the oversized robe trailing behind her.

"She doesn't miss much, does she?" Harrow remarked, watching her retreating form. Viren made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat.

"Tell me about it. Sources preserve me from curious twelve-year-olds." He couldn't help the hint of pride that crept into his voice. "She'll be a brilliant mage some day."

"You were going to tell me about a vessel?" Harrow pressed him, as soon as Claudia was safely out of earshot. Viren glanced around and beckoned Harrow into a corner where they wouldn't be disturbed.

“I  _ have  _ something we could use as a vessel, but you won’t like it. The  _ egg _ ,” he added, seeing his friend’s blank expression.

“Out of the question!” Harrow snapped. Instead of arguing, Viren gave a wry smile.

“I thought you might say that. Luckily, I know where I might find an alternative.” There it was again - Harrow's  _ Viren-is-about-to-suggest-something-terrible  _ sense was tingling. "Remember the repository in Duren I told you about? On the border of Neolandia?"

"How could I forget?" Harrow grumbled. He'd felt Viren's gaze burning a hole in the back of his head all week.

"There must be  _ something  _ in those lost tomes that can help us. Some clue that I'm missing…"

“You knew this would happen, didn’t you.”

“I’m a mage, not a fortune teller,” Viren sniffed. “But I’ll admit I had my suspicions."

“You’re annoying when you’re right.” Harrow sighed and looked around him at the soldiers - the suffering men and women who had simply been too close to Xadia's wild magic for too long.

“Fine, then. If it will save these soldiers, then off to Duren we go.  _ But _ -" he added, holding up a warning hand when Viren's eyes gleamed. "-We're not thieves. I'm going to write to the Crown Regent. We do this the  _ right _ way, not by going behind Duren's back. Understand?" Viren took a sharp breath as if to argue, but one look at the King's expression made him think again.

"Of course, your Highness," he said begrudgingly. He eyed the prone form of the nearest soldier. "I only hope the Regent gives us an answer in time."

* * *

A couple of days later, Harrow was starting to regret his decision. Viren threw himself into preparing for the journey; when he wasn't shut away in the library he harangued the Crow Lord until the old man sent his apprentice downstairs to complain. After that, Viren moved around the castle like a spectre, muttering darkly about indecisive regents until Harrow was ready to tear his hair out.

Amaya was more direct. 

_ Viren told me you're going to look for a cure in Duren. I’m coming with you _ .    
The King had never quite mastered sign language, but he got the gist. The look on the General’s face brooked no argument. 

“ _ If  _ the Regent grants us permission, we’d be glad to have you." Amaya folded her arms. "I'll do whatever I can to make sure Gren and the others get through this," Harrow insisted. "You have my word."

Amaya was too loyal to say it, of course, but Harrow's own conscience was traitorous enough.  _ What good is your word, _ it said scornfully,  _ if you can't find a cure? _

More days passed, and the afflicted soldiers, though they were still under Viren's heavy sleep spell, were getting no better. They had all developed blisters by now, and none of the apothecary's herbs or salves could bring down their fevers. Harrow found himself helping Viren plan for the expedition, simply to feel like he was doing something productive. 

Then, early one morning he was startled awake as the doors to his chambers flew open, bringing with them a draught of frigid air from the chilly hall.

"Good morning, Your Highness," Viren announced, crossing the room in a few long-legged strides. "I have good news!" 

Harrow groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"Viren," he said dangerously, "You have five seconds to tell me what's going on before I have my guards throw you off the balcony."

"The Regent has responded! She's granted us permission to enter the repository. ' _Given the aid Katolis_ _has given to our Kingdom in the past, I am pleased to help in any way I can'._ Just think - in a week or so we may have a cure!"

"Could this not have waited for a more respectable hour?"

"Time is of the essence, my King." Viren threw aside the heavy drapes over the window to allow sunlight into the room. The effect was somewhat ruined by a steely sky and a balcony heaped with freshly fallen snow. "We need to set out as soon as possible. I'll ready the expedition."

He swept out of the room, the tapping of his staff on the flagstone floor receding. Harrow slumped back against his pillows and threw his arm over his eyes with a groan.

No sooner had he dressed and gone downstairs, Viren appeared again as if out of nowhere, and fell in step beside him.

“I’ve called for a briefing in the Council chamber. We’re ready when you are.”

“Fine, fine.” Harrow endeavoured to ignore his rumbling stomach and the scent of breakfast cooking that wafted down the hall from the kitchen. 

He had to give the High Mage some credit - the man was efficient. The Council chamber was packed with eager volunteers, including General Amaya and several of the soldiers she had brought back from the border with her. There were also, Harrow noted, Viren’s two children. They were clustered around the table, where a map of the five kingdoms was spread out.

It was a first for Harrow, taking a briefing before breakfast, but with twenty pairs of eyes fixed on him, he suddenly felt much more alert.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said, taking his place at the table. “It’s time to go over the plan for our expedition into Duran. The Crown Regent has graciously allowed us to search for the lost repository on their border. Lord Viren will answer any questions you have about that, but-” he paused to steel himself. “I know you understand what is at stake, but let me make one thing clear; your safety is our biggest priority. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.” 

As he paused to let those last words sink in, Harrow sensed Viren’s disapproving stare. The man might even have protested, if the doors hadn’t burst open to reveal a harried-looking Opeli. The High Mage was the first to recover.

“ _ What  _ do you think you’re-”

“Your Highness, I’m afraid there’s been a development,” said Opeli, cutting Viren off. “A soldier died this morning.” A ripple of unease went through the room. Beside Harrow, Amaya went very still.    
“That’s not all,” Opeli continued. She looked paler than usual, the dark circles under her eyes betraying her lack of sleep. “The healer who was tending to him has fallen ill too. We had to separate him from everyone else, and give him a sleeping draught. It was…” she closed her eyes as if to ward off the memory. “...distressing.”

“What does this mean?” someone asked, in the stunned silence that followed. Harrow rubbed his eyes with a weary hand. 

“It means,” he said, “the sickness is spreading.”

* * *

It was hard to believe, but Callum and Ezran were getting tired of snow.

The day after they  received  King Harrow’s message, they took his advice to make the most of the snow by spending all day in it. They made a snowman, a snow fort, a snow castle, and even a snow toad. They returned to the lodge that night with chattering teeth and numb fingers and toes (to the exasperation of their minders). Their ideas were as exhausted as they were.

The next day, they stayed inside.

That had been days ago. Since then, they had played every board game, read every book, and explored every nook and cranny the Banther lodge had to offer. Worry started to gnaw at Callum as the days passed and still there was no word from Harrow, but the staff smiled kindly and assured him that the King would join them again when he could. He didn’t like to see Ezran upset, so he put on a brave face and tried to come up with new games for them to play, until finally all that was left to do was sit around the lodge and mope. And so they did. Even Bait just lay around listlessly.

One afternoon, as they were picking at their lunch, one of the maids appeared in the doorway clutching another letter.

“Pardon me, Princes,” she said, bobbing a quick curtsey, “but a letter has arrived for you. It’s from the King,” she added unnecessarily, as she handed it to Callum. It bore the royal seal, and Callum felt a sudden stab of worry. What if it was bad news?

“Come on Callum! Open it!” Ezran rapped the table impatiently. His minder disapproved of such behaviour, so naturally he did it whenever she was out of the room. Callum settled back in his chair, forcing himself to break the seal and unfurl the letter.    
_ “My dearest sons,”  _ he read, not bothering to put on his reading voice,  _ “I’m so sorry to tell you this, but things haven’t been going well in Katolis at all.”  _ He and Ezran exchanged a glance. Callum’s brow furrowed as he went on.  _ “I’m afraid I need to cut our holiday at the lodge short. Lord Viren and I are going on an important trip to Duren, but don’t worry, your Auntie Amaya will be with us. I’ll tell you all about it when we get back!  _ _   
_ _ Opeli will be coming shortly to take you home. She’ll look out for you while I’m away. Do as she says, and stay out of the east wing.  _ _   
_ _ I’ll be home as soon as I can, and I promise to make it up to you. Love you both, Dad." _

Callum hadn’t realised how tightly he was gripping the paper until it crackled under his fingers. He placed it on the table and smoothed it out with trembling hands.

"Callum?" Ezran stared across the table at him, wide-eyed. “Why is Dad going to Duren?”

“I… don’t know.” Callum couldn’t stand the way Ezran was looking at him. He got up and circled the table, wrapping an arm around his little brother’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. Bait gave a grunt of protest from Ezran’s lap.   
_ “Hey,” _ said Callum, “You don’t need to make that face!”

"Is Dad going to be okay?”

“Of course he will!” Callum plastered on his cheesiest grin. He wished he was as confident as he sounded. “He’s got Aunt Amaya with him, right? I’d like to see anyone mess with her!”

“I guess.” Ezran still looked doubtful, but to Callum’s relief he picked up his fork again. As Callum returned to his own seat, he couldn’t even think about food. The King wasn’t telling them everything - that much was obvious. 

Whatever he was hiding from them, Callum was determined to find out.


	3. The Expedition

“This is SO unfair!” Claudia’s arms were folded and her cheeks flushed pink with righteous indignation as she glared up at her father. She was sitting on top of Viren’s satchel in protest. "Why can't I come with you?"

 _“Because,"_ said Viren, with as much patience as he could muster, "You are far too young."

"You let Soren go!" Claudia pointed an accusing finger at her brother.

“Ugh, Clauds.” Soren, fourteen years old and embarrassed by everything his sister did, shook his head in disgust and slunk out of the room.

"That is different - Soren is training for the Crown Guard."

 _"I'm_ training to be a mage!” Claudia’s voice turned wheedling. “I can help you catalogue anything you find!"

"You can help me when I get back," said Viren firmly. "Now, will you _please_ let me pack?" Claudia sighed heavily, but shuffled aside all the same. Viren's expression softened. "This journey could be dangerous," he told her. "I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Besides, you can do more good here."

“Just promise me you’ll be safe,” said Claudia, blinking away tears. She looked at him so fiercely that it took Viren by surprise.

“I promise,” he intoned, but Claudia wasn’t satisfied yet.

“Pinkie promise?”

“Aren’t you a bit old for-”

 _“-Pinkie promise,”_ she insisted, holding out her little finger. Viren sighed and linked his finger round hers. They shook hands solemnly. When they finished, Claudia surprised him again by darting forward and throwing her arms around his waist. She muttered something into the front of his robe.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m going to miss you,” Claudia repeated, pulling away.

“Oh, Claudia. I’ll miss you, too.”

The rest of the party were already waiting in the main courtyard when Viren arrived. The horses stamped impatiently on the slush-covered flagstones, their riders’ breath condensing in the chilly air. Among them were sleds carrying their tents and equipment - the bare minimum for such a journey. There would be few creature comforts along the way, but time was of the essence. Anything that would slow them down had been left behind.

Soren was there too, under the watchful eye of General Amaya. His hand kept straying to the blade on his hip, betraying his nerves. 

“There you are,” said Harrow, as Viren’s horse drew level with his. 

“Apologies. I was saying goodbye to Claudia.”

“I’m guessing she didn’t take too kindly to being left behind?” Viren gave a wry chuckle. 

"She's… used to getting her own way."

"Hmm, sounds like someone else I know." Out of the corner of his eye, Viren saw General Amaya turn away to hide a smirk.  
Harrow paused to take in the castle one last time. His gaze lingered on the east wing. “Well, I guess it’s time to set out.” Everything depended on this venture, a thought that was never far from the front of his mind. If Sarai were alive, would she have let him go with her blessing? Or would she have insisted on coming too?

Viren coughed politely, drawing him back to the present.

“I’m ready when you are.”

“Alright then.” Harrow smothered his misgivings and spurred his horse into a trot. “Move out!” 

They filed through the main gate and across the bridge that led into the city. The streets were filled with the bustle of the morning’s business, but the city folk fell quiet as they rode past, watching them with wary curiosity. Word had spread about the mysterious sickness. Harrow couldn’t bear to meet their eyes. Instead, he kept his gaze firmly on the road in front of him.

As the city gave way first to farmland, and then to the forest, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. For the first time in his life, he was glad to leave his home behind him.

* * *

Opeli wasn't sure she was cut out for prince-minding. The journey to Castle Katolis from the Banther Lodge was a stiff, silent one, punctuated only by the gentle clopping of hooves on the road and the occasional snort from the horses. It wasn't just that Opeli had the maternal instincts of a rock (she did), or that the situation at the castle was weighing on her mind (it was). Callum and Ezran weren't in the mood for conversation, and the glow toad spent the whole time glaring suspiciously at her from Ezran’s saddlebag.

They stopped halfway so the two boys could rest, while the other staff went on ahead. Callum dismounted first, then helped Ezran down as their sturdy old horse waited patiently. Then Ezran asked the question Opeli had been dreading;

“Why does Dad have to go to Duren?”

Opeli inwardly groaned. What was she supposed to tell him? _Your father is off searching for an ancient library that may or may not still exist, on the advice of an arrogant, self-serving-_

“I’m sorry, Prince Ezran,” she said, looking away from his pleading face. “I wish I could tell you, but it’s a… a _secret_ mission.” She smiled, hoping it sounded exciting and mysterious, rather than evasive. But, bless his heart, Ezran wasn’t to be deterred.

“But _why?"_ he prodded. “Why does he have to keep it secret from us? He’s our _dad_.”

“Drop it, Ez,” Callum said sharply, and the young prince fell into troubled silence. Opeli should have been pleased, but instead the pit in her stomach felt even worse. The lad wouldn’t meet her eye.

“Hey, now,” she said, trying to sound jolly and failing miserably. “You must both be famished! When we arrive, I’ll get the cook to rustle up something for you!”

“Thanks,” said Ezran, “but I’m not hungry.” Sources, there really _is_ something wrong with him, Opeli thought in dismay. She glanced across at his brother for help, but none was forthcoming. She watched as Ezran lifted Bait from his saddlebag and sat with him on his lap, stroking his head. The glow toad’s hide turned a melancholy blue.

Panic started to set in; Opeli could imagine the King’s reaction if he returned to find the heir to the throne had starved in her care.

 _Why me?_ She thought helplessly. She hadn’t relished the idea of babysitting to begin with, but now two weeks sounded like a terribly long time.

* * *

The first thing Callum did when they arrived at the castle was inspect the eastern wing from a distance. From the outside it didn’t look any different, but judging from Harrow’s message, if he wanted answers that was the place to start. The castle _was_ busy, though - apprentices from the royal apothecary scurried across the courtyard, carrying piles of linens and crates of medicinal herbs. They broke their stride only to let the stable boys pass as they led the horses away.

“Actually, Opeli,” Ezran said sheepishly, patting his grumbling belly. “I am kind of hungry.”

“I’m not surprised,” Opeli remarked. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat. Maybe something a bit more substantial than jelly tarts,” she added, seeing Ezran’s face light up. He snapped his mouth shut with a disappointed _click_.

“You guys go on ahead,” Callum said lightly. “I have to, uh…” he grimaced and crossed his legs in what he hoped was a meaningful way. Opeli gave him a strange look, but nodded and steered Ezran away to the dining hall.

Callum meandered in the direction of the nearest bathroom until they were out of sight, then doubled back and made a beeline for the east wing. He didn’t get very far before a familiar voice made him freeze. 

“Callum!” Claudia flew down the steps to join him. “You’re back!” Callum felt his cheeks heat up as he remembered his travel-worn appearance. He surreptitiously smoothed his messy hair with one hand. 

“I thought you were still at the-” Claudia gasped. “Oh no! I never wrote to you! Things have been so crazy around here, I completely forgot!”

“Oh, that. It’s fine, I forgot about it too.” It wasn’t _completely_ a lie - the mystery behind Harrow’s latest letter had pushed everything else out of Callum’s head. Something clicked in the back of his mind as he registered what Claudia had said.

“Wait, what’s going on?”

“You mean the King didn’t tell you?” said Claudia disbelievingly. “A bunch of soldiers got sick with some weird magic illness, and no one really knows what’s wrong with them. It’s like a plague! Except, you know. Magical.” She drew up a little straighter with pride as she added, “I’ve been helping in the east wing.”

“Is that safe?”

“I guess so? The healers are making everyone wear dumb robes to stop the sickness spreading, but Dad thinks they’re useless. He thinks it has something to do with the Breach.”

 _The Breach._ Callum’s blood ran cold. _Aunt Amaya’s with Dad,_ he reminded himself, but that didn’t stop his pulse from racing in his ears. Claudia must have noticed his silence, because she shot him a sympathetic look.

“Jeez, your Dad really didn’t tell you anything, huh?” she said. “Don’t worry, your Auntie’s fine. But her ginger-haired friend? Not so much.”

“Gren’s sick?” Callum’s heart dropped into his shoes. Claudia winced, realising her lack of tact.

“I mean, he’s asleep right now. Dad put all the sick people under a sleeping spell so they wouldn’t be in pain.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Do you want to see him?” Callum nodded dumbly, too overwhelmed to speak. He felt like crying, but luckily, Claudia had already turned away. 

“Our dads have gone to Duren to search for a cure. You just missed them, actually. They left this morning.”

“I can’t believe Dad didn’t tell me,” Callum mumbled.

They ducked around the side of the castle, ignoring the main entrance, until they reached a servant’s door that led to the eastern wing. There was no one around, and the door was unlocked. Claudia semed rather pleased with herself.  
“If we sneak in this way, we won’t have to wear those stupid robes,” she said with a wink.

* * *

Being on the road gave Harrow plenty of time to think. This was a double-edged sword. Doubts began to claw at him; as soon as he addressed one, more pushed their way into his head. Sarai had once taught him to visualise his worries like a ball of yarn, unrolling it mentally until it was completely unravelled, and then to let it go. But right now that yarn was tangled beyond help.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he steered his horse toward the rear of the group and drew up alongside Viren. The High Mage also seemed lost in thought, though Harrow suspected he wasn’t so much plagued by self-doubt as wondering what treasures lay in wait in the repository. Harrow cleared his throat to get the man’s attention.

“Something has been bothering me.”

“Hm?”

“If the troops became sick by being so close to Xadia, is it possible that the reinforcements are in danger of falling too?” The question didn’t seem to surprise Viren. 

“Regrettably, yes.” Harrow stared at the High Mage in shock.

“Then why didn’t you mention it?!”

“I thought it was obvious!” retorted Viren, before he remembered himself. He looked away, embarrassed. “I apologise, Your Highness, I know you’ve had a lot on your mind.”

“No.” Harrow gripped his reins with shaking hands. “I should have thought of it before, but I missed it. I’ve sent more soldiers into danger, and I didn’t even realise.”

“No one would fault you for that. The border must be kept guarded.” Viren chose his next words carefully. “Your troops would be ready to lay down their lives to protect the kingdom. They have faith in you.” Harrow’s mouth flattened into a straight line.

“Then I only hope that faith isn’t misplaced.”

* * *

Callum felt as if he had stepped into a nightmare. Everywhere he looked he saw blistered, unconscious bodies, some sleeping like the dead, others moaning quietly, their eyes closed. The air stank of bitter herbs and stale air. Claudia didn’t seem to mind the surroundings at all. She slipped confidently from room to room, beckoning for Callum to follow.

At last they reached a low cot by a window, where Gren’s familiar form lay under a thin blanket. His quick, clever fingers were blistered, and his face was flushed, his freckles barely visible beneath what Callum took for a bad sunburn at first. Then he felt the heat coming off the man - it was like putting his hands near still-glowing embers.

“Is that…?”

“Yep.” Claudia chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully as she looked down at Gren. “Something to do with the way the magic attacks their life force. Weird, huh?”

The edges of Callum’s vision turned fuzzy. He needed air, _now._

He clasped a hand to his mouth as his stomach violently flip-flopped, and made a dash for the door. He was vaguely aware of Claudia’s voice calling after him, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying over the roar of his pulse in his ears.

 _“There you are!”_ Callum blindly collided with someone, realising too late that the face glaring down at him belonged to Opeli. “ _What_ do you think you’re doing here? Your father _expressly_ forbade-” she trailed off as she took in his tear-streaked face and pallid skin. “Ah.”

Opeli gripped his shoulder and marched him towards the door. Callum barely noticed the disapproving glares of the apothecary healers; his stomach still felt as if it was still trying to eject itself from his body. 

As soon as they were out the door, Callum fell against the stone wall and sank to the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Opeli knelt beside him, rubbing his back as he gasped for air.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, burying his face in her shoulder. “I only wanted to see what was going on.” 

Opeli was no expert when it came to comforting children, so she awkwardly patted his head and made quiet shushing sounds until his sobbing subsided.

“Now you know why Har- _the King_ \- wanted to hide the truth from you,” she told him gently, when he pulled away. Callum nodded miserably, wiping his nose on his sleeve. 

“I was so mad, I - I thought-”

“Silly boy. The King would never keep secrets from you unless it was important.”

“I-” Callum swallowed noisily. “I know. But what if something happens to him?” His eyes widened as he clapped a hand over his mouth, as if to push the words back down his throat.

“Look at me.” Opeli leaned in so her face was level with the prince’s. “The King _will_ return safely. No matter how his mission ends, he _will_ come back, because he loves you and Ezran more than anything else in the world. And don’t you forget it.”  
She rose to her feet, offering Callum a hand and hauling him upright. He mumbled something under his breath. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Claudia probably thinks I’m a coward,” he repeated, kicking at the flagstones with embarrassment. There were many things Opeli wanted to say to _that,_ but she bit her tongue. 

“Lots of people would have reacted the same way you did,” she said instead. “It means you have empathy. That’s not a bad thing at all.” Opeli took the boy’s hand, and together they began to walk toward the main entrance of the castle.  
“Oh, one more thing.” A sliver of ice crept into her voice. “You’re not to breathe a _word_ of this to Prince Ezran, do you hear me? Or you’ll have far worse things to worry about.” Callum gulped - he recognised that look. Whenever Aunt Amaya looked at him that way, it was a harbinger of trouble.

“Yes ma’am.”

As they went to join Ezran in the dining hall, Opeli thought she caught a glimpse of young Claudia watching them from around a corner - a smudge of dark hair and robes against the brickwork of the castle. But, when she turned to get a better look, there was no sign of her.  
Opeli frowned - perhaps she had imagined it. Even so, she was going to keep a much closer eye on the two young princes from now on.


	4. The Lost Tower

After six grueling days of travel, the expedition party crossed the border into Duren.

Until now they had kept to the roads, stopping only to sleep, or to let the horses rest. Once they passed a road patrol from Duren, who kept an eye on them from a respectful distance. Their presence was a reminder that, king or no king, they were guests in these lands, here only by the grace of the Crown Regent. 

They spent the next day skirting craggy hills and a wide, dark forest. Viren’s research had given him clues as to the repository’s location, but with the wilderness becoming more rugged as they strayed further from the road, their progress slowed. Every hour that passed felt like a step closer to failure.

They crested a ridge, and the whole party gasped at the landscape that unfolded below them. Tucked away, in a wide valley shadowed by mountains, stood a ruined tower, built from white marble and slowly being reclaimed by nature. The stonework was choked with creeping ivy, and gleaming chunks of masonry littered the valley floor.

Harrow stole a look at Viren when the High Mage wasn’t looking. He’d gone tense and silent, his gaze fixed on the crumbling tower.

“Is that  _ it _ ?” Soren’s incredulous voice drifted over to them from the back of the group. He joined them and tugged on his horse’s reins, coming to a stop alongside his father. “It looks like it’s going to fall over any second!”

“Don’t be foolish,” Viren snapped, spurring his own horse on and setting off ahead. Soren watched him go, hurt etched on his features.

“Don’t mind your dad,” said Harrow, when Viren was a safe distance away. “He has a lot on his mind right now.”  _ And so much depends on the outcome of this mission, _ he added silently, eyeing the ruin.

“Come on,” Viren called briskly, taking the lead. “We need to find a way down there.”

* * *

The repository must have been grand, once. In the centuries after their exile, humans had forgone the elegant spires and ornate carvings that reminded them of Xadia. Instead, they built sturdy structures from stone and wood that had to be shaped by hand, unlike the living wood of their ancient homeland. This tower had been built before they rejected the old ways, while the memory of Xadia was still fresh. It was a nod to their origins.

What was left of it, anyway. As the sun rose to its zenith in the sky, they followed a shallow river along the valley floor the true extent of the damage became clear. The place was a mere shell of its former glory.

“I hate to say it,” said Harrow, “But it looks like we came all this way for nothing.” Viren didn’t answer at first. “It doesn’t even have a  _ roof.” _

“Appearances can be deceiving.” Viren climbed the weather-beaten steps to the door and placed a hand on the dark wood. It was set deep into the stonework, with no lock that he could see, or even a handle. Amaya joined him, and rapped on it experimentally with her fist.

_ Want us to break it down?  _ she asked.

“Not yet. It’s still in one piece, which means it was designed this way.” Viren rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “There must be something we’re missing.” He frowned and rummaged in his satchel for a moment, producing a jaw of beetle carapaces. If he noticed the way everyone else recoiled, he didn’t show it. He held one of the fragile husks out in front of him and shut his eyes.

_ “Yaw eht nepo, egassap em evig,”  _ he intoned. Harrow grimaced as the words slid over one another, seemingly taking on a life of their own. He’d never get used to that. 

Something was happening, though. As the beetle carapace disappeared in a burst of purple flame, a split appeared in the surface of the door. The gap widened, as the door gave a shudder and became  _ two  _ doors, split down the middle. They groaned inwards on stiff hinges.

“This repository was built by mages,” said Viren, rather pleased with himself. “They would have wanted to ensure the only ones to enter would be those who could use the knowledge held within.” He sobered as the smell of stale air and mouldering paper wafted through the doorway. 

“I just hope there’s anything left,” Harrow remarked, with an uneasy glance at Viren. Did The High mage’s eye sockets look bruised, or was that merely the light?

The tower was as ruined inside as it was without. Sunlight streamed through gaping holes in the ceiling, and trailing ivy fell like curtains through the cracks. The sweeping spiral staircase to the floor above had collapsed. The ground was littered with bloated, mouldy books, all far beyond saving. Viren looked around at the destruction, his expression unreadable.

“To think of all the knowledge lost,” he said quietly. A movement in the shadows caught his attention; Amaya was standing on a set of stairs leading downwards, waving him over.

_ I think I’ve found something. _

At the bottom of the stairs was another door, this one of the mundane variety. Amaya tugged at the handle. The wood had warped badly, and the door stuck fast. She braced her foot against it, and gave it an almighty kick. It splintered inward with a teeth-rattling crash, sending a cloud of dust and splinters into the air. Amaya grinned and gestured to her handiwork.

_ Look, I’m a mage too. _

* * *

The stairs took them down into a cool, dark antechamber that had once been a study, judging by the the furniture, and the tattered remnants of a carpet underfoot. It sported a grand archway, through which a faint blue light could be seen at the end of a short hallway.

Viren took point, with Harrow and then the rest of the soldiers. Amaya brought up the rear, one hand on her weapon and the other a comforting presence on Soren’s shoulder. The stillness of this place unnerved the boy, but with the stalwart General at his back, he pushed himself forward. 

“Watch your step,” Viren called over his shoulder. “The floor-” he trailed off as he took in what lay at the end of the hallway. “Sources,” he breathed.

The party emerged into a vaulted chamber with a raised platform in the centre, surrounded by thick stone pillars. The pillars were topped with jagged crystals, like slivers of coloured glass. They were the source of the light, but Viren’s attention was fixed on the platform. Curved bookshelves followed the platform’s edge in an arc, filled with books and scrolls that seemed remarkably well-preserved.

“The lost tomes.  _ Incredible _ ,” said Viren, the light from the stones casting him in an eerie glow. “We must be the first people to enter this place in centuries.” Harrow and Amaya exchanged a glance.

“He’s like a child in a sweet shop,” muttered Harrow. Amaya’s lips twisted in a grimace.

_Let’s get what we came from and get out of here._ _I don’t trust this place._

The others all made murmuring noises of agreement. No one wanted to disturb the heavy quiet that hung in the air. That is, until a loud  _ click _ echoed off the stone walls. Soren was frozen mid-step, the slab under his foot lit up with magical runes. 

A curious humming sound filled the air. Soren nervously shifted his weight, trying to see what he’d stepped on.

“ _ Don’t move! _ ” Viren hissed, and the boy froze. The humming grew louder, and rose in pitch. A bead of sweat rolled down Soren’s temple. 

“Dad, what do I do?” he pleaded.

The humming sound reached a crescendo, and became a high-pitched whine that made everyone but Amaya wince and cover their ears. Then, as abruptly as it had started, it stopped. Amaya’s eyes widened as she pointed urgently at something over Viren’s shoulder. 

The High Mage spun around in time to see the crystals surge with light, before the General threw herself at him, tackling him to the ground. In one smooth movement she was back on her feet, grabbing his arm and hauling him upright. A split second later, the stone at his feet cracked open as a bolt of bluish-green light shot from the crystal and hit the floor with a  _ crack _ . The smell of scorched stone filled the air.  Another bolt of magic sizzled overhead, and they both ducked instinctively behind a pillar. All around them, the rest of the group scrambled for cover. 

_ Do something, damn it! _ Amaya’s hands threw stark shadows against the pillar, as yet another bolt hit the wall behind them, sending a spray of dust into the air.

Viren tore open his satchel and frantically searched through the spell components he had on hand. At last he found what he was looking for - the skin of an armoured coral snake, shed in a perfect coil.

He held his staff over his head, the snake skin gripped tightly in his other fist.

_ “Mrah lacigam morf su dleihs!”  _ he shouted. The snake skin crumbled to ash in his palm as he struck the ground with his staff. A sphere of shimmering magic formed around him, enveloping him and Amaya. He slowly backed into the open, Amaya matching his steps carefully. A bolt glanced off the dome of the shielding spell, but it held. 

“Everyone, to me!” Viren’s voice rose above the crackle of energy that filled the room. The others made a dash for the sphere and huddled within its walls, flinching every time a magical bolt struck it with a  _ crack _ . It shimmered and wavered ominously.

“What now?” Harrow sounded shaken.

“I can’t hold this spell forever,” Viren told him through gritted teeth. There was a chorus of muffled protests from the soldiers as Amaya shoved her way through the group, until she reached the two archers. 

_ Shoot the crystals, _ she signed with some difficulty in the cramped space. The archers exchanged a fearful glance.  _ We can pass through the shield, but the magic can’t, _ she added, with growing impatience. 

Steeling themselves, the archers raised their bows and loosed an arrow each at the closest crystal. They struck true, and cracks spread across the surface of the stone. Amaya bared her teeth in a triumphant grin.  _ Again! Keep shooting! _

The next arrow struck dead in the centre of the cracks, shattering the crystal and sending powdery chunks of it scattering across the ground. Their confidence bolstered, the archers set to work demolishing the other crystals, until finally the room fell still once more. Viren let the shielding spell fizzle out with a groan of relief. It was a while before anyone dared to move.

“Spread out and check the rest of the chamber for more traps,” Harrow ordered. “And for everyone’s sake,  _ watch your step!” _

Viren rubbed his neck, stiff from the tension of holding the spell for so long. Beside him, Soren ducked his head, his cheeks red with shame. 

“Dad, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put everyone in danger...” he trailed off. He couldn’t meet his father’s gaze, couldn’t bear to see the disappointment etched on his face.

“Just-” Viren gave a weary sigh. “Go and wait by the door,” he told his son. “We’ll need you to help carry the books back to camp.”

* * *

They had to make several trips to recover the books. Some were in better condition than others; several scrolls crumbled into fragments before Viren tersely declared he would oversee their transportation himself. It was almost sundown before the last of the tomes were piled onto a sled. 

There was an atmosphere of cautious celebration as they made camp for the night. With the help of Viren's magic, they soon had a blazing fire, enough to warm the tents and keep any wandering creatures at bay. 

When it came time to turn in, Amaya kept first watch, standing vigil at the edge of camp. Gren’s face, feverish and set in a grimace of pain, swam into her mind. In the past week she had thought of little else.

_You had better hold on,_ she’d told his sleeping form before she left, _or I’ll chase you into the afterlife and drag you back myself._ She didn’t cry - she never cried - but a lump rose in her throat as she turned to leave. 

A shadow fell beside her, pulling her back to the present. She turned to find Harrow hovering nearby, looking like he’d aged a year over the course of a day.

_ How are you holding up?  _ He signed, clumsy from lack of practice. Amaya stifled a laugh as she thought of what Sarai would have said about that.

_ My best friend is dying and I'm freezing my-  _ she made a gesture that Gren would have translated as 'unmentionables' - _ off in the snow. Apart from that? I'm just great. _

"I meant what I said, back in Katolis." Giving up on signing for now, Harrow turned towards the fire so Amaya could read his lips. "We'll do whatever it takes to find a cure."

_ I don't like putting Gren's life in the hands of-  _ Amaya caught herself. The High Mage had saved everyone’s lives in that damned cellar.  _ I don't trust this magic. It's a double-edged sword,  _ she amended. She reached up absently to trace the scar on her cheek.

"I know," said Harrow with a sigh. "But what other choice do we have?" He looked up at the stars, and Amaya knew he was thinking of Sarai too. “Sometimes I wonder about the choices I’ve made, and...” He hesitated. “If things might have turned out differently, had I made better decisions.” Amaya quirked an eyebrow.

_ Are you asking me for advice? _

"I suppose I am."

_ If you second-guess every decision you make, you'll end up paralysed with fear of making the wrong choice. A strong leader is decisive, and puts the good of their people before anything else. My sister knew that. _

“Yes, yes she did.” Harrow’s eyes shone, his throat tight. Amaya pretended not to notice. “She made me a better person.”

_ She made all of us better people. _

When Soren came to relieve her for the next watch, Amaya stretched her stiff limbs, looking forward to the moment when she could finally crawl into her tent and catch some sleep. The boy’s eyes were red, and she didn’t think it was from the late hour. She clasped his shoulder gently.

_ Be strong. _ Soren gave a faint smile and nodded gratefully.

Viren was still awake, Amaya noticed as she headed for her tent. He sat by the light of the fire, poring over one of the ancient texts they had recovered. He frowned and turned the page, muttering to himself. He didn’t even glance up as Amaya passed him. 

She couldn’t fault the man for his determination, at least. If there was a cure to be found within those fragile, yellowed pages, the High Mage was their best chance of finding it.


	5. Exhaustion

The next morning, Harrow emerged from his tent to find Viren huddled by the remains of the fire, staring into the embers. He looked as though he hadn’t slept a wink. Judging from the haphazard piles of books around him, that assessment was accurate.

“You look terrible,” Harrow told him bluntly. “So, did you achieve anything with your all-night study session?”

“Precious little.” Viren let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “But I have only been through a fraction of what we recovered. There has to be _something_ that can help us.”

The next two days passed in a blur of monotonous riding and endless snow. Each night, Viren kept himself awake with magic, and by taking brisk walks away from the comfort of the fire. He skimmed page after page, his frustration growing every time he had to discard a book and move onto the next one. In those two nights he made a sizeable dent in the stacks of unread books, but still the knowledge he was searching for eluded him.

By day he dozed in the saddle, never able to snatch more than a few minutes of sleep at a time. Harrow and the others whispered about him behind his back, but he ignored them, brushing aside their concerns whenever they voiced them.

Then, early one morning before dawn, he found it.

* * *

“I have a solution!” For the second time in recent memory, Harrow was shaken awake by Viren bursting in on him as he slept. He blinked groggily and sat up. Viren stood at the entrance of his tent, with a gleam in his eyes that bordered on maniacal. 

“You found something?”

“Yes, a way to synthesize a vessel!” Viren scratched absently at his beard. He was looking rough these days - everyone was - but he’d grown a few more grey hairs during his time on the road. “It’s delicate work. No one has ever done it successfully, but we have the advantage of three centuries of advanced practical knowledge.” Harrow watched him pace back and forth with growing unease.

“Viren…”

“The incantations are all wrong, but I can fix that…”

“Viren!” He got to his feet and stepped in front of the mage. He reached out to steady his friend. “You don’t look so good,” he told him. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. We have four more days of travel before we reach Castle Katolis.” Viren pushed his hand away.

“I’m fine,” he snapped.

It wasn’t long before Harrow realised just how wrong the man was.

They were following the road south around the edge of a lake, its surface crusted with ice, when Viren’s horse snorted in protest. Harrow turned and let out a cry as saw the High Mage tumble from his saddle, landing in a heap on the slush-covered ground.

 _“Dad!”_ Horses snorted and shifted in annoyance as Soren shoved his way through the crowd. He knelt down at his father’s side and shook him frantically. “Dad, are you okay?”

Amaya dismounted and joined him, rapping her knuckles against Viren’s collarbone. His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t make a sound.

“What’s wrong with my Dad?”

 _Exhaustion,_ she signed.

“I… I don’t understand-”

“He needs to rest,” said Harrow, dismounting and placing a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I should have put my foot down earlier. The lack of sleep was bound to catch up with him sooner or later.”

 _What do you want to do?_ Amaya was clearly itching to get back on the road, as were the others. Harrow couldn’t blame them - Castle Katolis was only a couple of days’ ride away. But it was clear that Viren wasn’t going anywhere in this condition.

 _We could tie him to a sled,_ suggested Amaya, not entirely joking. Soren looked from her to Harrow anxiously. For a moment, despite the boy’s bravado and determination to make the crown guard, the King was struck by how young he really was. Behind the armour, he was still just a boy; a boy who was looking to Harrow to do the right thing.

He remembered Amaya’s words from the other night. _Be decisive._ _  
__  
__Put the good of your people first._

“No. We’ll find a place to rest,” Harrow said, clapping his hands to get the others’ attention. At his feet, Soren sighed with relief. 

They made camp right there on the side of the road, with the frozen lake on one side and a thick copse of trees on the other. No one wanted to admit it, but it was good to stop and gather themselves. 

* * *

When Viren’s eyes flickered open, he found himself looking up at the canopy of his tent. He was lying on his bedroll, though there was something soft under his head. There was a fire crackling somewhere nearby, and people were talking in low voices, but he was too groggy to make anything out.

He sat up slowly and winced - he felt like he had been run over by a cart. Soren sat at the foot of his bedroll, his knees drawn up to his chest. He stared at Viren as if he was afraid the man would disappear if he took his eyes off him.

“Hey, Dad.”

Viren frowned and rubbed his temples. His head pounded - he felt like one of the boy’s training dummies. The object he had been using for a pillow was Soren’s cloak, he noticed.

“How did I get here?” 

“You fell off your horse.” _Sources,_ thought Viren. _How humiliating._ “King Harrow says you pushed yourself too hard, trying to find the cure.”

“Nonsense,” Viren scoffed, “I merely dozed off. If I hadn’t been in the saddle at the time…” he tried to push himself upright, but it was as if someone had removed all of his bones and replaced them with stuffing.

“Dad, _please_ ,” Soren shuffled over on his knees. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t rest up.” He hovered by Viren’s side, looking so anxious the High Mage had to look away. They hadn't spoken much since the incident in the repository.

The sound of a scuffle outside drew their attention. Amaya burst in, dragging one of the archers behind her. The woman looked as though she would rather be anywhere else, but Amaya was like a whirlwind, uprooting everything in her path. She pointed at Soren, then at the tent flap. 

_You, out._

“Yes ma’am.” Soren scrambled out of the way. Viren wished he could do the same. The General plonked herself down, cross-legged, in front of him.

“Is this _really_ necessary?” he protested, but Amaya had already begun to sign at him.

“No, don’t talk. _Listen,_ ” said the archer, translating. “The soldiers from the Breach are my brothers and sisters. My friends. You’re the only one who can save them now, so if you think I’m going to let you carry on like this until you expire from exhaustion, you’re sorely mistaken.”  
The archer broke off for air. Amaya, who had no such requirements, continued her tirade.

“I don’t like it, but there it is - we need you. So you’d better be fresh as a new-born foal by the time we arrive, or I’m going to take those books and-” the archer trailed off with a horrified gasp. Viren’s grasp of sign language was patchy at best, but the short, sharp gestures Amaya made needed no translation. For once in his life, he was lost for words. Amaya sat back and gave him a feral smile.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. “Your feedback is appreciated.” The General rolled her eyes and got to her feet. The mortified archer fled through the tent flap, eager to put as much distance between herself and the High Mage as possible before he regained his strength.

Viren wasn’t sure how long he slept, but when he opened his eyes again darkness had fallen, the only light coming from the glow of the fire. He struggled to his feet and went over to the tent flaps. He pushed them aside and took a breath of frigid air. His legs still felt wobbly, but thankfully the pounding in his head had stopped. He should be well enough to ride, come morning.

_Going somewhere, Lord Viren?_

Amaya was sitting right outside his tent. Thankfully, her new-found interpreter was nowhere to be seen. Viren raised an enquiring eyebrow. 

“Dare I ask what you’re doing outside my tent?”

_Just making sure you stay put. King's orders._

“There really is no need for this.” Amaya didn't even twitch. “Fine, you win.” Viren sighed and retreated. As he let the tent flaps fall into place, he saw Amaya shake her head with exasperation. He couldn’t be sure, but in the dim light he thought he caught the ghost of a smile.

* * *

No one spoke of Viren’s exhaustion after that, though they were eager to make up for the lost time. The last leg of the journey passed without any more incidents, and when the walls of Castle Katolis finally rose into view above the trees, a ragged cheer went up from the party.

When they had left, Harrow couldn’t wait to get away from the place. Now he felt a pang of shame as he looked up at the walls of his home. There were people here who needed him.

Opeli and the two princes were waiting in the courtyard when they arrived; someone must have seen their approach and sent word to her. Callum and Ezran could hardly wait for him to dismount before they were upon him.

"Boys!" Harrow dropped to his knees and threw his arms open wide to pull his sons in for a hug. "I missed you so much." He straightened up and picked up Ezran, tweaking his nose as the boy giggled and squirmed. "I hope you didn't give Opeli a hard time while I was away."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Callum look away guiltily, but before he could remark on it, Ezran began to barrage him with questions.

"Why did you go to Duran? Did you fight any monsters? Is Aunt Amaya going to stay with us? Can she sleep in my room?" Harrow laughed heartily and shook his head.

"Okay, let's think about one thing at a time." He had to sidestep Claudia as she flew across the courtyard. She threw her arms around Viren, almost bowling him over in his weakened state. Soren looked like he was about to turn inside out with embarrassment. 

"It's good to see you, Your Highness." Opeli eyed the sleds piled high with books. They were covered with thick canvas sheets to protect them from the elements, but there was no mistaking their angular shapes. "I take it the mission was a success?"

"It was," said Harrow. "Call a council meeting for this evening, and I'll tell you everything then. But, first things first…" he grinned at Ezran. "I don't know about anyone else, but I could really use a bath, and a good meal."

* * *

Viren's fingers itched to return to his books - sources, had he had already begun to think of them as _his?_ But they _were_ his, in a sense; he was the only one who could make sense of them, draw out their full potential. Besides, his ancestors had built the tower, and bound the volumes to preserve them over the centuries. They were a gift from generations past, and now they could be used for the benefit of all...

He jerked awake, blinking, as Harrow's foot nudged his under the table. Viren turned away, embarrassed. It wasn't entirely his fault - the council chamber was stuffy, and the conversation dull - but he'd punished his body over the past week, and the effects still lingered. He'd overestimated himself. A foolhardy mistake, to be sure, but not one he would repeat. 

Harrow cleared his throat. "Now that we've caught up on regular news, Opeli, tell us about the afflicted. Has anything changed?" Amaya stood at his side, tense as a coiled spring. The other council members shuffled their feet and refused to meet the King's eye as Opeli stood up.

"The sleep spell was enough to slow the progression of the sickness a little," she began, "but four more soldiers have died, and more healers have fallen ill. It's a miracle we haven't lost more." Viren considered this, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with the pad of his thumb.

"Interesting… when the magical energy exhausts its host it moves on to the next person it can find. I wonder if it's merely surviving, or _growing?_ "

 _"Really_ , Viren?" Opeli shot him a look of disgust across the table. "This isn't one of your experiments - people are dying."

"And what have _you_ achieved so far?" Viren snapped. Opeli's face grew pale with fury as she opened her mouth to respond, but a fist slammed down on the table, making everyone jump. Amaya took a deep breath, and collected herself.

 _Enough,_ she said. She rattled off something in sign language that Viren could only guess the meaning of. When she withdrew, Opeli was staring down at her lap, chastened.

"Ah, if I may…" Taking advantage of the awkward silence, Viren rose from his seat and unfurled a roll of paper on the table in front of him. The room filled with the sound of shuffling as everyone leaned closer to get a better look. A disquieted murmur rippled around the table. The corners of Viren’s lips curled. 

This was old magic. Not the ancient force that ran through the land, the sea, the stars, no. It was the culmination of his predecessors' work, their experiments and study. It was _life_ , dissected, broken into its component parts and stitched back together. 

"What _is_ that?" Harrow looked torn between awe and distaste. "An egg? A cocoon?"

"Neither," said Viren, rolling the paper up once more. "It's our solution - a vessel. With it we can draw out the rogue magic killing our soldiers. We can contain it, study it, perhaps one day _use_ it." This was the wrong thing to say; Opeli shot to her feet, shaking her head.

"I can't be part of this," she declared, heading for the door. 

"Opeli!" Harrow made as if to follow, but Amaya was already halfway out of the room. She fixed Viren with an unreadable stare, before the door clicked shut behind her.

Viren turned back to the others. His display hadn’t persuaded everyone - some of the council members looked as though they wanted to leave, as Opeli had. But it wasn’t their approval he needed.

"Of course, the final decision lies with you, my King.”

“This isn’t what I expected,” said Harrow. It seemed there was a lot more that he wanted to say, but instead he sighed heavily and nodded. “Very well, Viren. Do what you need to do. I won’t let this sickness claim any more of my people.”  
  
Viren nodded graciously. “Then, if we are finished here, I will take my leave.” 

Fatigue dragged at Viren’s bones as he climbed the staircase to his tower, the promise of his own bed calling to him. That mattered little - tonight he would rest, for he would need to be sharp tomorrow. Tomorrow, his work began in earnest.


	6. The Vessel

Usually the High Mage was fastidiously neat, but on the morning Harrow visited his study the place had been utterly transformed. Almost every surface was scattered with books, jars, pots and tools. A forgotten pot of tea cooled on a side table. Claudia was happily transcribing notes by candlelight from one of the books they had recovered from Duren. On Viren’s workbench, amidst the chaos, sat the vessel.

It was a primal-looking thing, made from a wicker frame as tall as the length of Harrow’s arm from elbow to fingertip. There was some kind of leathery membrane stretched over it like a skin. Harrow reached out to run his fingers over its surface, then thought better of it.

“So, this is it?” He peered doubtfully at the flimsy-looking construction. 

“Almost. You’re looking at the outer shell. The vessel’s real power will lie inside.” Viren ran a hand, stained with ink and other, undoubtedly less pleasant things, across his brow. Claudia pressed a cup of tea into his hand, and he sipped it absently. She offered one to Harrow too, but he politely declined.

“When will it be ready?”

“Soon, very soon. But there’s something I need to talk to you about.” Harrow was instantly on his guard.

“Oh?”

“Do you recall what Opeli said, about the healers falling ill after the soldiers died? The magic is consuming its hosts’ life force, draining them completely, before moving onto the next person - in this case, the closest people it could find.”

“Then we need to act quickly. We already _knew_ that, Viren.”

“Yes, but there’s a more pressing problem. The afflicted are weakened, in some cases fatally. Put plainly; if we draw the magic out of the soldiers, they will die." Harrow drew back, his mind racing. 

"Then all of this - the vessel, the journey to Duren - it was all a waste of time!" His hands had curled into fists, he realised, his nails leaving crescent-shaped marks in his palms.

"Not at all.” Viren was calm. “This is a minor setback, and easily remedied."

"It doesn't _sound_ very minor. It sounds like it could ruin our whole plan."

"Not if I can draw enough energy to heal them at the same time I draw the rogue magic out. I have an idea." _Those dreaded words again,_ thought Harrow.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Over in her corner, Claudia’s head suddenly snapped up.

"Um, Dad?"

"Not now, Claudia. Will you at least allow me to explain, before you discount the idea entirely?"

"Go on, then. I’m listening.” Harrow folded his arms.

"A few square miles of forest contains more life than you could imagine, even in winter. Beneath the snow there are plants, animals, insects, fungi-”

"But Dad!" 

"Claudia, don't interrupt! As I was saying, if I can use the forest’s life force to restore the strength of those worst affected, the magic shouldn’t-”

"Dad, LISTEN!” Viren sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

_"What is it,_ Claudia?"

"The fixative is boiling over!" Claudia pointed to the hearth, where foul-smelling froth poured down the side of a pot and into the flames. Viren barked an uncharacteristic curse and crossed the room in three strides, hooking his staff under the pot handle and carefully setting it down on the stone floor.

The inside of the pot was sticky with something black and resinous. Whatever it was, it was beyond salvageable now.

“My entire supply of scorpion orchids,” said Viren tonelessly. “Sources forfend anything be simple for once.” He took a steadying breath before turning back to the King. 

"You can't be serious,” said Harrow, still thinking of what Viren had told him. “It will kill the forest!"

"Not the whole forest. A sizeable chunk of land, yes, but we will do it as far away from the city as realistically possible, without harming the afflicted.”

"Viren, if I had known this earlier, I never would have agreed to all this." Harrow gestured around him at the workshop.

“It is… regrettable,” Viren allowed, “But _all this_ is going to save lives. Don't lose sight of that!"

“Just-” Harrow bit his tongue. “End this, Viren.” He left those words hanging in the air as he left the study, grimly aware that he wasn’t sure anymore if _‘this’_ meant the sickness, or the dark magic that was meant to stop it.

The King’s footsteps receded, and Claudia watched as Viren let out a long, silent breath. Exhaustion was etched into every line of his face. She chewed her lip, wishing she knew how to help. Her eyes fell on the burnt pot, and a smile ghosted across her lips.

Her father was far too busy to notice as she slipped from the room. With any luck, she thought, she would be back before he had even realised she was gone.

* * *

Callum sat outside in the main courtyard under the big tree, sketching an empty birds’ nest he’d found. He yelped in surprise as, without warning, Claudia poked her head over his shoulder.

“Hey Callum!” She grinned and took a seat on the bench next to him. Her eyes flicked over his sketches, and he fought the urge to slam his book shut.

“Oh! Uh, hi!” He knocked his pencil onto the ground and fumbled to pick it up. “Long time no see!” Claudia’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, it has been. You haven’t been _avoiding_ me, have you?”   
  
As a matter of fact, Callum _had_ spent the last two weeks avoiding Claudia. It wasn’t exactly hard to do - they did live in a castle, after all. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her - he just couldn’t face explaining to her why he had run from the east wing. Besides, it took the better part of a week for Opeli to trust him enough to let him out of her sight again. 

“No!” he lied, several seconds too late. Claudia looked a little put out. “I’m sorry for running out on you the other day. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble.”

“Oh, that? Don’t be silly!” She swept her hair off her shoulder with a shrug. “It _was_ pretty intense. It’s not your fault you’re still a kid.”

“I- I’m not-” Callum felt heat rise in his cheeks. _You’re only two years older than me,_ he wanted to say, but Claudia had already moved on.

“Anyway, that isn’t what I came here for. I’m going to look for some special flowers in the forest. Scorpion orchids.” she leaned in conspiratorially. “I call them _scorpids._ Want to come?”

“Oh, I’m not allowed out of the castle grounds without a chaperone,” said Callum, regretting it instantly when he saw Claudia’s disappointment.

“That’s a shame,” she said, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s for Dad’s spell. You know, for the sick soldiers.”

“Really?” Callum’s eyes widened as he thought of Gren lying helplessly in his cot in the east wing, burning with fever.

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal. I don’t mind going on my own. I’ve done it lots of times.”

“Wait, I want to help! I’ll come with you.”

“You will? Great!” before Callum could change his mind, Claudia grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. “Meet me in half an hour by the main gate.” She eyed the steely sky, adding, “Bring your cloak.”

“Shouldn’t we tell someone where we’re going?”

“Like who?” Claudia gave a laugh. “Opeli? No way! Dad always says it’s better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.” _That_ sounded like a good way to get grounded, but Callum decided to cross that bridge when he came to it.

* * *

Callum had been into the city of Katolis a couple of times, though only on festival days, where he stayed close to his father under the watchful eye of the Crown Guard. Once again, he was awed by Claudia’s seemingly boundless knowledge. She knew exactly which way to go, taking back streets that seemed to wind this way and that, doubling back or joining other narrow streets that looked identical.

At last they emerged from the tangled streets, onto a little bridge that took them straight across the river. When they reached the other side, Claudia pushed back the hood of her cloak with a grin.

“See! Much easier than trying to sneak through the city gate, right?”

“How do you know your way around so well?” Callum couldn’t help but sound impressed. 

“Oh, I come out here all the time to look for supplies for Dad. It’s a lot less annoying when you don’t have nosy guards trying to see what you’re carrying.” Claudia swung her empty basket in the direction of the forest. Between them and the treeline was a patchwork of fields, brown and empty. “That’s where we need to go.”

“Wait, how are we going to find orchids in the middle of winter?” said Callum, looking around him doubtfully. A dirty layer of slush covered the road, churned up by countless pairs of boots. Claudia winked and tapped her nose.

“You’ll see…” she said. “Come on, I’ll race you to the forest!” She took off down the road, laughing.

“Hey!” Callum leapt after her, his cloak flapping behind him. “Wait for me!”

The forest was eerily quiet without the sound of horse hooves to keep them company. Claudia made up for it by keeping up her incessant chatter, but Callum was only half listening. He kept his eyes down, searching for anything that looked like flowers amongst the snow. He was concentrating so hard, he didn’t realise at first that he’d left Claudia behind.

“Callum, you’re going the wrong way!” She stood at the foot of a gnarled tree a short way off the road. “Come on, you’ll never find anything if you stay on the path.” Callum hesitated. The shadows between the trees seemed to sway and lengthen as Claudia took another step away from the road.

“Do we really have to go in there?”

“Um, yes?” said Claudia, as if the answer was obvious. She didn’t wait for a reply, simply ducked under a snow-laden branch, disappearing from sight. Callum had to run to catch up with her. 

The cold was starting to set in now; Callum rubbed his icy hands together and stuck them beneath his armpits. He’d been in such a hurry he’d forgotten to grab his gloves. Claudia didn’t seem to mind the cold - she darted between thick clusters of trees with ease, swinging her basket as if she didn’t have a care in the world. 

Callum was about to ask if she knew any spells to ward off frostbite when she let out a little cry of delight and quickened her steps. Callum stumbled after her, his cloak catching on brittle twigs.

She stood at the foot of a tree. It was bare and grey, but clinging to the trunk was a cluster of spindly orange flowers.

“Are those…?”

“Scorpids!” Claudia gently prised one of the flowers from the tree. She held it out to Callum. “Go on, touch it!”

“It’s warm!” Callum cupped the flower in his hands.

“Yep! They grow all year round. The stuff that makes them warm is sticky, so it’s good for binding stuff.”

They picked as many of the flowers as they could reach. Now that Callum knew what to look for, it wasn’t long before he spotted another cluster on a tree not far away.   
“See?” said Claudia, nudging his shoulder. “We’ll have more than enough to help everyone.” That thought warmed Callum as much as Claudia’s approval did. He threw himself into his task, suddenly not caring about his numb fingers anymore. 

An hour or more passed as they wandered deeper and deeper into the forest. Something in the scrubby undergrowth caught Callum’s eye. A narrow opening in a face of rock, where the ground rose up to create a natural overhang.

“Hey, is that a _cave?”_ He thought he saw a movement in the shadows, but before he could make out what it was, something heavy collided with him, sending him flying into a snow drift. The pressure on his back lifted, and he pulled his head free from the snow with a gasp. 

_“Shh!”_ Claudia pressed a finger to his lips and jerked her head towards the cave. “Look.”

They held their breath as two furry shapes lumbered out into the open. Their fur was yellow and spotted, their shape ursine. They snuffled and pawed at the ground. Claudia’s eyes lit up.

“Awww,” she breathed, “baby lepears!” The ‘babies’ would have reached her waist, at least. Callum ducked as something else moved in the cave. Something bigger.

“We should get out of here,” he whispered. They eased themselves to their feet and backed away, taking care not to step on any twigs or trip on any hidden roots. The lepear cubs were play-fighting, sending snow spraying everywhere. They didn’t notice the two figures sneaking away into the cover of the trees.

They headed back in the direction of the road at a brisk pace. The trees were beginning to thin out when Claudia stopped dead and clapped her hands to her forehead. “Oh no! The scorpids!” Her basket was nowhere to be seen. “I must have put it down and forgotten about it!” Callum groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“What are we gonna do now?”

* * *

Years ago, Sarai and Harrow would ride out to her waterfall - he always thought of it as hers, even in those days - to get away from the demands of the castle for a few hours. It was her favourite place, she always said, although she also said that about the river that flowed past the Banther Lodge, and the castle roof. Sarai had many favourite places, it turned out, although Harrow liked them better when she was there. Just as Sarai had been an island of serenity in his turbulent life, her statue was a place of peace, sheltered by the cliffs and overlooking the lake.

“What have I done, Sarai?” He used to imagine her voice, always strong, always kind, even when it was laced with anger or sorrow. As the years passed it got harder. She was slipping away, piece by piece. One day he’d forget what she sounded like, and he would never hear her again.

His horse whickered softly as footsteps approached. Harrow turned to see Amaya and Opeli, their horses waiting nearby.

“King Harrow, I’m so sorry.” Opeli dipped her head respectfully. “We wanted to leave you in peace, but there’s a matter of some urgency. Is Prince Callum with you?”

“No, why?” Harrow looked from one woman to the other, taking in their worried faces with mounting concern.

“I can’t find him anywhere, and neither can Amaya. No one has seen him for hours. Prince Ezran said he went to his room to fetch his cloak, but didn’t say where he was going.” There was a pause, during which Amaya and Opeli exchanged a loaded glance.

_Tell him, Opeli._

“There is something else, Your Highness.” Opeli’s mouth twisted as she clasped her fingers together. “There was a… minor incident while you were away. Involving Callum.” Harrow’s eyes narrowed.

“Tell me everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scorpion Orchids are a real plant, but they don't have a built-in radiator, and as far as I know you can't make magical Elmer's paste out of them. They do look cool, though.


	7. Dark Magic

“Dad?”

Soren normally gave his father’s study a wide berth. While his sister could happily spend hours among the meticulously organised bookshelves, with their jars of dead creatures, the place gave Soren the creeps. 

“Hello?”

Claudia had locked him in once, years ago. She’d meant it as a joke, but after twenty minutes of pounding on the door and yelling until his voice was hoarse, Soren was _sure_ that some of his father’s specimens were watching him. Claudia had let him have her share of dessert for a week, by way of apology, but he had never ventured inside again. Until now, that is.

“Dad!”

Viren was bent over his workbench with his back to the door. His eyebrows rose in surprise when he looked over his shoulder and saw Soren standing there.

“Soren? What are you doing here?” Soren wrinkled his nose at the burnt smell that permeated the room. 

“Have you seen Claudia?”

“Yes, she’s right here-” Viren took in Claudia’s empty seat and the dying embers of the fire with a frown. “At least, she was. What time is it?”

“Almost dinner time. But if Clauds isn’t here…” Soren scratched his head. “It’s just weird, you know? That I can’t find her, the same time Prince Callum disappears.” Viren’s jerked around to face him.

“What was that about the Prince?” he demanded.

“No one’s seen him all day. Opeli thinks he’s wandered off somewhere. I’m about to head out with the Crown Guard to look for him.” Viren spun away from the workbench and paced the room. 

“Surely she wouldn’t…” he muttered, more to himself than to Soren. His gaze lingered on the charred pot of fixative congealing on the hearthstone. 

“Dad?”

“Come with me, quickly now.” Viren snatched up his staff, heading for the door. “I know where Claudia might have gone.” Soren hurried to catch up. 

“But what about Callum?” 

“If I’m correct, we will find the young prince when we find Claudia.”

They nearly collided with Harrow on the stairs. His expression was thunderous, but for once his ire was not directed at Viren. 

“Viren, you’ll never guess what my daft son has done-”

“-and my impulsive daughter, yes, I know-”

“-anything could happen-”

“Uh, Dad?”

“-looking for Scorpion Orchids-”

“-going to ground him for a month-”

“-my fault, of course-”

“Okay,” begged Soren, squinting up at the two men in utter confusion. “Can someone _please_ tell me what’s going on?!”

“Go and saddle up,” said Harrow, not unkindly. “General Amaya will brief everyone at the main gate. Are you coming, Viren?”

“Naturally.” There was no trace of the earlier tension between them; if anything, they seemed grimly pleased to be on the same side once more, although the corners of Harrow’s mouth were creased with worry. 

“He left his gloves behind,” he said, as they continued up the stairs. “It’s almost nightfall, and they could be anywhere...”

“We will find them,” said Viren firmly.

“I hope you’re right.”

* * *

The trees seemed to close in as night began to fall. Claudia summoned her witch-light, and she and Callum retraced their steps through the woods. They followed the footprints they had left, but in the fading light, everything looked different.

"Careful," said Claudia. "Don't lose the trail." They were both shivering now.

"Maybe we should go." Callum flinched at every shadow, every snap of a twig. "Those lepear cubs are still out here somewhere." Claudia ignored him and pressed on, her witch-light bathing the trees in its milky glow.

They found the cave, eventually, but there was no sign of the lepears. Callum and Claudia lingered behind a tree with bated breath, but the forest was silent and lifeless. The basket of scorpion orchids sat tantalisingly just out of reach, at the base of a tree they had been harvesting from. Claudia leaned in close, her breath tickling Callum's ear.

"Stay there," she whispered. "I'll be right back." She stepped out from behind the tree, and Callum was suddenly aware of just how dark the forest was. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he thought he saw something shift in the darkness a few yards away. His breath caught in his throat, and he pressed himself against the tree. The sound of branches snapping and heavy footfalls in the snow filled his ears. He tried to call out to Claudia, to warn her, but her name dried up in his throat, came out more like a croak.

Then, two things happened.

The first was that Claudia stooped to pick up the basket. Her back was to the shadow, and she shone her witch-light on the flowers, checking to make sure they were undamaged. The second thing was that, as if in answer to Callum's strangled yelp, a long, menacing growl filled the night air. Claudia spun around and shone her witch-light in the direction of the noise.

The lepear was ursine but sleek, its rippling brownish-yellow fur speckled with spots. It flinched away as the light shone in its eyes, and growled again. The sound made Callum's knees go weak. The lepear shook itself. It was taller than Claudia already, but when it rose up onto its hind legs and swiped a massive claw in her direction, it towered over her.

Claudia stumbled backward with a whimper, clutching the basket to her chest. Callum was rooted to the spot. Lepears were known not only for their short, sharp bursts of incredible speed, but also for their climbing ability. There was nowhere to run.

"Callum," Claudia pleaded, her eyes never leaving the creature. "What do I do?"

The lepear dropped to all four legs and lurched forward. Claudia screamed and threw up her hand as if to shield herself. Her witch-light shone directly in the lepear's eyes, and it snarled and shook its head, dazzled.

Callum gasped for breath, forcing air into his petrified lungs. "Keep shining your light on it! It doesn't like that!"

Claudia began to back away. She struggled to hold the light steady; her hand was trembling so much. The lepear shook itself again and let out a roar of frustration. It tensed, its muscles rippling beneath its fur, preparing to charge.

"Clauds!" Soren burst through the trees, skidding to a halt in the snow when he saw the lepear. He was only a few feet from Callum, but he didn't seem to have noticed him. He carried a lantern, and its light made the shadows dance and flicker. The lepear snarled at the interruption, and Claudia took a few stumbling steps backward.  
"No!" said Soren urgently, "Don't run!"

"What do I do?"

"Move slowly towards me."

Claudia did as he said, keeping her witch-light trained on the lepear. As she closed the gap between her and her brother, the lepear darted forward, but Soren lifted his arm and dashed his lantern against a rock. Flames spread across the ground as the oil spread. They died with a hiss as they made contact with the snow, but the greasy smoke they let off was thick and pungent. The lepear’s eyes glittered as it slunk away through the trees, in search of less troublesome prey.

Claudia threw her arms around her brother. "How did you find me?"

"Dad realised you went to look for more of those stupid flowers. I was on the road when I heard you scream." Soren grimaced and extricated himself from his sister's arms. 

"That was really stupid, you know, staying out after dark."

"We didn't mean to! Callum and I were on our way home, but-"

"Oh, the step-prince is here too? Great." Soren seemed to notice the prince for the first time. He folded his arms with a glare. "What are you doing in the woods with my sister?"

"Don't be gross, Soren." Claudia gave him a shove. "He was only trying to help." Callum felt rather small, as he remembered how he had frozen up at the first sign of danger. _"Hey,"_ said Claudia, misreading his expression. "It’s okay, we’re safe. I guess now we know where mama lepear is." She gave Callum a watery smile. Soren rolled his eyes.

“You two are in _so_ much trouble.”

* * *

Soren seemed to be enjoying himself as he handed Callum and Claudia over to their respective fathers. He was the hero of the hour, after all. General Amaya clapped him on the shoulder as she led him away. Lanterns flickered in the forest as the search party picked their way through the trees. Callum didn't have time to say a word before Harrow leapt from his horse and enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Never, _ever_ do that to me again," he said, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

"I won't," said Callum. "I'm sorry." Harrow held the boy’s hands tightly between his own as he tried to rub some warmth into them.

"You're almost frozen!" he took off his cloak and draped it around Callum's shoulders. "Come, let's get you back to the castle." In truth, after the close encounter with the lepear, Callum hadn't noticed the cold much. He stole a quick glance in Claudia's direction. She was bundled up in a blanket, sipping something from a tiny flask. Viren was stroking her hair, talking in a low tone.

Callum drowsed while they rode, his father holding him tightly in the saddle with one arm. He nestled in his borrowed cloak and let the rocking of the horse lull him. He resolved to make the most of it while it lasted, aware that all this - the relieved hugs and reassurances - were temporary, that he was in for a world of trouble when they arrived.

He wasn’t wrong.

* * *

“I can’t tell you how disappointed I am.” Harrow paced up and down the dining hall, his voice dreadfully calm. Callum almost wished he would yell, but he stared at his empty bowl and said nothing. He’d known this was coming. At least Harrow had let him finish his soup.  
“You know it’s not safe to go out without a chaperone, but to be in the forest _after dark_ -” Harrow shook his head. “I don’t understand, Callum. I thought you were smarter than this.”   
He looked _tired_. Shame flooded Callum’s belly as he thought of his father’s long journey to Duren, and the dying soldiers.

“I just wanted to help.” It sounded pathetic, even to him, but Harrow stopped pacing and looked at him - really looked at him, as if he was trying to understand. Callum fiddled with his spoon, wondering how to explain.  
"I saw the soldiers,” he said. “I went into the east wing. I know you told me not to, but I had to see for myself."

"I know you did."

"Huh?" Callum looked up at Harrow in bewilderment.

"What, you don’t think adults talk to each other? Opeli told me everything. Why do you think I put her in charge of you while I was away?"

"Oh." Callum had never felt more of a fool.

"Callum, look at me." Harrow pulled out a chair and sat, leaning in so they were at eye level. "I'm not happy that you disobeyed me. Things are hard enough at the moment without you acting irresponsibly.” Callum nodded, shame-faced, and Harrow’s expression softened. “Did you at least learn anything from all this?"

"When you say I can't do something, it's for a good reason?"

"Right. It's my job to protect you from the things you're not ready for. Enjoy being a kid while it lasts." He gave a wry smile and thoughtfully stroked his beard. "Now, I _was_ going to ground you, but it would be hard to apologise properly to Opeli and your Auntie Amaya for causing them so much worry, if you can’t leave your room.” Callum cringed as he remembered the blistering look his auntie had shot him when Soren led him out of the woods. “Oh, and a ‘thank you’ to Soren for the rescue wouldn’t go amiss either, wouldn’t you say?” 

“Yes, sir.” He would have preferred being grounded, Callum thought glumly. 

* * *

Things were not going so well for Claudia, either.

"What were you _thinking?"_ Viren's voice was sharp as a whip crack. Claudia winced. Her father rarely shouted, rarely even raised his voice, but that just made it worse. Soren looked almost sympathetic.

"I was just trying to help!"

"You couldn’t have been less helpful! You didn't only put yourself in danger, but the King's stepson as well! How do you think that looks?" Claudia scowled and folded her arms. Viren stared coolly back, unmoved. “Go to your room.”

“Fine. I left the scorpids on your workbench," said Claudia tartly. _"If_ you even care." The door slammed as she swept out of the room. A terrible silence fell in her wake. 

Soren blew his cheeks out. "Awkward." There was no reply. “She’ll get over it, though,” he added. “She always does. Hey, I wonder if that lepear ever gets mad at her cubs for running off?" He grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

"Sources preserve me, I thought one teenager was bad enough-" Viren trailed off with a frown. “ _What_ did you say?”

“Um, Claudia will get over it?”

“No, _no,_ about the lepear. Did you say _cubs?”_

“Uh, yeah? Claudia said they saw some cubs. No wonder it was going to attack them.” Viren’s expression had changed, and Soren stared at him, mystified. 

“A _mother_ lepear… that just might work… the heart of the vessel…”

“Dad?”

“Soren, prepare to head out again. I’ll have Corvus ready his hunters."

“Right _now?”_ said Soren, dismayed. “But-” he blinked as his father placed a surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Yes, _now,_ while the creature is in its burrow. With it, I can complete the vessel. This is important, son.” Soren nodded, understanding dawning on his face.

Viren watched him go, noticing for the first time the way he held himself tall, his head high. His eyes were bright, probably from the celebratory slug of peach brandy Amaya had slipped him when she thought Viren wasn’t looking. He was starting to look less like a child, and more like a soldier. When had that happened?

“Soren?” Soren hovered in the doorway. Viren hesitated, searching for the right words. “You did well, tonight. You’ll make a fine crown guard someday.” Soren’s face split in a wide smile.

“Thanks, dad.”

* * *

Days passed, and life at the castle fell into an uneasy routine, the drama over but not forgotten. Viren shut himself away in his study, emerging only in the small hours of the morning, bleary-eyed, to crawl into bed. The inhabitants of the east wing still suffered, and Harrow found it harder and harder to sit through Opeli’s daily briefings.

Then, at long last, a message arrived as Harrow tucked Ezran into bed one night. Viren’s spidery handwriting stared up at him from the paper. The vessel was ready. 

The sun peeked over the horizon as Harrow’s horse climbed the slope leading to Sarai’s statue. He hadn’t slept at all, too anxious about the day ahead to even close his eyes. His body felt taut, like a bowstring. Behind him, Amaya sat astride her own horse, looking pensive. 

“Thanks for coming,” said Harrow, when her horse drew level with his.  
  
_Don’t mention it._ Amaya looked up at Sarai’s kind face. _I couldn’t face tomorrow without visiting my sister, either._

They dismounted and left their horses to root for grass beneath the snow. Harrow reached into his saddlebag and withdrew two candles and a tinderbox.  
  
“You go first. I’m sure you two have plenty to catch up on.” Amaya gave him a crooked smile as she took a candle and the tinderbox. Harrow turned respectfully away as she knelt by the statue’s base. 

When she finally rose to her feet, Amaya seemed lighter, somehow, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She handed the tinderbox back with a grateful nod.

Harrow lit his candle and watched the flame dance for a few moments. It reminded him of Sarai’s eyes when she laughed.  
  
“Well,” he said, “It’s nearly over. I’m sure you would have plenty to say about tomorrow. I suppose I’m not entirely sanguine about it myself. It seemed such a simple solution at first, so obvious.” He gave a short laugh. “I know, I’ve said that before. Like you always used to say, magic is anything but simple.”  
The candle guttered, and Harrow cupped his hands around it to shield the flame from the wind. When it steadied, he carried on.  
“I don’t know if I can be proud of the choices I made. There are a lot of things I wish I could take back, but in the end this will save people - good people - so I’ll just have to make my peace with that.”  
Harrow rose to his feet and reached up to the statue’s outstretched hand. For an instant, his skin brushed his wife’s stone fingertips. 

“I hope you’ll forgive me, my love.”

* * *

The vessel sat in the centre of the clearing. Now it was complete, it no longer looked like an egg, or a cocoon. It was a reddish colour, a dark shape pulsing gently beneath the translucent membrane that covered it. The wicker frame showed through, looking more like veins, or perhaps bones.

An evenly spaced circle of stones enclosed the vessel. Around that, the dying soldiers and healers lay on low cots, under a sleep spell. Harrow’s guards, Amaya included, had refused to linger here any longer than necessary. Opeli had refused to come at all.

A deep silence lay on the clearing, thick as the snow blanketing the ground. Harrow waited until Viren had finished adjusting the stone circle, and cleared his throat.

“Is everything ready?”

“Yes.” Viren stepped into the stone circle. He didn’t look back. “Please, leave me now.”

As Harrow made his way back to the road, where the others were waiting, he heard snatches of Viren’s voice over the crunching of his boots in the snow. The words were indistinct, but even from this distance he could hear they were loaded with power.  
  
King Harrow shivered, and quickened his pace.

* * *

**Epilogue**

General Amaya strode up and down the courtyard, observing each pair of sparring soldiers in turn. They were sloppy and out of practice, but it wasn’t their fault. The rogue magic had burned away much of their life force before Viren drew it out. Muscle mass, stamina… even after his healing spell and weeks of recuperation, these things would take a long time and plenty of hard work to recover. 

Dark magic was all well and good, Amaya thought, but there was no shortcut for catching up on missed training.

 _Again,_ she said. From the look on Gren’s face as he translated, the order was met with a chorus of groans. _Really, Marcos?_ She added, as a young man fell to the ground at her feet. _Are you going to let a fourteen-year-old put you to shame?_  
Soren laughed and offered his long-suffering sparring partner a hand. Amaya smirked and began another circuit of the courtyard.

Nobody spoke of the rogue Xadian magic, especially not the men and women guarding the Breach. King Harrow had quickly decreed that soldiers stationed there would rotate every month. No one had argued.

As spring arrived and the snow melted, the forest outside the city of Katolis came to life once more. All except for a swathe of brown, barren land, which cut into the woodland like a scar. Nobody ventured there, especially not the city folk, who whispered darkly to one another of elven witches, of blood and human sacrifice. It was a silent place, where even the wind seemed to die away. 

Nothing would ever grow there again.


End file.
